


Confessions

by Ashtray_Heart



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Athelstan is insecure about lots of things, Canon Compliant, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Gap Filler, Hand Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-27
Updated: 2017-02-27
Packaged: 2018-09-27 07:31:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9982943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ashtray_Heart/pseuds/Ashtray_Heart
Summary: Being apart from the man he has grown to admire made Athelstan realize the depth of his feelings. He makes a choice, and then another one.Set around s02e09.





	

It was already dark when he approached the camp, carrying all his earthly possessions in a bundle, the light of the flickering fire guiding his way through the field. He was still wearing his priest robe, Ragnar however must have told the watchmen about his arrival, because they didn’t even bat an eyelid at the sight of him.

It was mostly Horik's men gathered around the fire, eating, drinking, telling jokes; in spite of his expectations, but to his relief, none of them paid Athelstan any attention as he made his way through the camp, all the way to the earl's tent. Ragnar was not alone; a murmur of voices and laughter filtered through the rough fabric of the tent-clotch, and Athelstan's heart leapt.

 

Ragnar was sitting with his back to him as he entered, engaged in conversation with his son, so it was Lagertha who noticed him at first.

"Athelstan!" she stood, smiling brightly at him, which made Ragnar and Björn turn in their seats. "I'm so glad you're coming home with us."

"Of course I do." Athelstan beamed, partly because he was so happy to see them again, and partly because could not help it, seeing the wide, pleased grin that spread across Ragnar's weary face. “It is good to see you.”

He wanted to say many things; nearly six years is a very long time, after all. He opened his mouth but before he could even think of how to put his feelings into words, he was pulled into a warm embrace. “Good to see you, too,” Lagertha said as she pulled away, beautiful and sweet-smelling as ever. "I see at least they kept you well-fed. You changed a lot,” she examined him.

“It's probably the hair.”

“It's not just that, though, is it?” Lagertha tilted her head, a curious smile playing on her lips. “Ragnar was just telling us about how he and Torstein trained you to fight.”

Athelstan stole a glance at him and smiled.

“Yes, but I'm so out of practice I fear I already forgot how to use an axe.”

“You don't just _forget_ how to use a weapon,” Ragnar interjected. “The same way you don't forget how to ride.”

“I've never been much of a good rider, either.”

Ragnar caught his eye and grinned. Athelstan returned it, and then turned back to Lagertha.

“Are you two all right?” he asked, his voice low.

“It's fine. Don't worry.” The smile she gave Athelstan seemed a little forced, but he knew better than to press her. The way she said “don't worry” made it fairly obvious that that will be a conversation for another day. “We'll leave you to yourselves now. I am sure you two have a lot to discuss."

Athelstan shook his head. „ No, that's not necessary. Please, stay.”

„We were about to leave anyway,” Björn jawned. „It's been a long day.” He stood up and stretched, easing out the kinks in his muscles. Athelstan only realized just now how much the boy had grown. He was already one feet taller than him, and even his voice got a lot deeper than he remembered.

To Athelstan's surprise, Björn moved to pull him into a half-hug. The embrace itself did not last for more than two seconds, but still, the boy has never hugged him before, and it settled something warm in Athelstan's chest.

“Could you get him some proper clothes, Father?” Björn grinned. “He can't sail with us wearing _this_.”

"I can and I will, but for now he's good enough for me the way he is," Ragnar said, a grin curling on his lips, his gaze searching for Athelstan's. "Tell the others I'm tired, and not to be disturbed."

Lagertha nodded. "Sleep well. Both of you.” She patted Athelstan's back one last time, smiling, and they left the tent, leaving them alone.

Silence fell upon them, and the younger man could feel his heart beating in his throat.

“Your son is much more... _affectionate_ than I remembered,” he said.

Ragnar's lips curled into a smile.

"He's also more hairy and taller," he conceded.

"Have really so much time passed?" Athelstan asked. "He was a little boy, and now he is taller than me."

"One could hardly call that an achievement, though. Most of our women are taller than you."

Athelstan rolled his eyes.

"Now stop standing there like that and come sit with me. I would like to hear all about what happened after we've left." Ragnar patted the spot beside him, his expression soft, and Athelstan didn't need to be told twice.

Their thighs brushed together, but neither of them seem to mind.

"There are...things I would prefer not to talk about," he said, looking up into Ragnar's intense blue eyes that once tended to have the effect of making him uncomfortable. "It's....well, complicated."

Ragnar held his gaze, with a rather apprehensive look on his face.

"As you wish," he nodded, with a smile. "Tell me everyhing you would like me to know."

And so he told him; all about how they had been ambushed in the woods by Saxon soldiers, how he managed to escape from the bowmen, but got captured the morning after all the same, and how King Ecbert took mercy on him and saved his life.

He felt Ragnar's gaze flicking occasionally to the scars on his palm, when he thought Athelstan did not see it. It seemed as though he needed all his self-restraint to stop himself from cutting in.

"I still can't believe how could they do that to you," he said at last, lips trembling in suppressed anger. "Your fellow Christians."

"In their eyes I was an apostate, worthy of death," Athelstan said, carefully. "They did what they had to do to a man, who, as far as they were concerned, abandoned his faith."

“They could have simply cut your throat and be done with it, but they chose to make a show of it,” Ragnar pointed out. “And if abandoning your faith is such a loathsome sin, why is it that they wanted you to die the same way your God did?”

Athelstan opened his mouth to speak, but then he realized he did not actually know what to say. Once again he was left at a lost for words by Ragnar's unnervingly sharp wit, as many times before when he asked him a question he didn't quite know the answer to.

"Doesn't your Lord talk about forgiveness all the time?” Ragnar went on. “That people are supposed to forgive one another in order to receive God's forgiveness?"

Athelstan contemplated.

"Yes, but-"

"If only I knew who did that to you," Ragnar cut in, voice barely a whisper, "I'd make them suffer.”

"They are not to blame, Ragnar."

Ragnar groaned and practically spat the words.

"Your people are _strange_."

"For me, there are no such things as 'your people' and 'my people'. There's only you and me." He was desperate to make his intentions clear, and the words were out before he could stop himself. “I've been... missing you, Ragnar.” He put his hand on his. “And I've thought of you every day.”

His words seemed to have caught the other man off-guard. His lips parted but no words came out.

"I'm sorry, I... didn't intent to make you uncomfortable..." He removed his hand. "It's just...that is how I feel. I thought it's only fair to let you know."

"Don't be stupid.” Ragnar's voice emerged hoarse. “You couldn't make me uncomfortable if you tried very hard.” And then he added, grinning. “Is my imagination playing a trick on me, or was that your way of telling me you're willing to share my bed, after all?”

Athelstan nudged him, smiling sheepishly.

"I dreamt of returning to England, several times," he said. "I told you I didn't care but the truth is, it has always been in the back of my mind. I missed practicing my faith, missed using my mother tongue, missed _reading_ , but most of all I missed my art." He paused. "And then.... after years of longing I was home, amongst my people, and I've never been more alone in my whole life. That's how I realised that all I ever needed have been right in front of me all along.”

Ragnar reached out and touched Athelstan's bearded cheek, tenderly tracing the angles of his face with his fingertips; he looked slightly astonished by the fact that, after years of casual touches he was _allowed_ to do this. Physical contact had always come naturally to him and to most people in his world, but Athelstan was different. "I'm sorry, my friend" he said. "I should have never left you with these people, but the choice wasn't mine to make. You insisted on staying."

"I just....wanted to help. To prove myself useful."

Ragnar sighed impatiently. "You don't have to prove anything. Not to me. Besides," he smirked, "you already have, on several occasions. I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you in the first place." His eyes flicked to Athelstan's lips. "May I...?"

Athelstan leaned forward, closing the distance between them with a kiss.

It was clumsy, a mere brush of his lips against Ragnar's; having only been kissed once, his lack of experience showed, making his cheeks burn with embarrassment. Ragnar did not seem to mind though, nor did he attempt to deepen the kiss.

"It's been _years,”_ he grinned when they parted. “Why now?"

“I was... confused.” Athelstan's voice was low, almost a whisper.

“About... how you feel and what you want?” Ragnar tilted his head to the side.

“No. Of that I was certain.” Athelstan blushed. “I was confused because....” He took a deep breath. “In the Bible, it is clearly stated: if a man lies with a male as with a woman, both of them have committed an _abomination_ , and they shall surely be put to death.” As it continued to haunt him on his sleepless nights for so many years, he knew Leviticus' verse by heart. “I thought---well, _hoped_ that if I don't act upon my....desires, it would not count as a sin.” 

Ragnar seemed to consider that for a moment.

“What's anabomination? _”_

Athelstan startled. Of course. One of those, now rare occassions, when he switched to his native language without realizing it.

“Um, well...it's something that causes hatred. Or disgust.”

Clearly displeased, Ragnar pulled a face. “I see. And how are you feeling about that?”

“Hard to tell. And I'm not sure if I...care anymore.”

Ragnar searched his face.

“In any case. It doesn't matter. What matters is that you're here, and tomorrow we're going home together.”

“Yes.” Athelstan savoured the words. “We are.”

He gave him a small smile and kissed him. This time, however, Ragnar did not keep it chaste; he traced his tongue along Athelstan's lower lip, probing, and much to his amusement, his lips parted immediately in an audible moan. They shared lazy, languid kisses while slowly getting rid of the layers of clothes covering them to the point where both of them were wearing only trousers. Not breaking their kiss Ragnar led him to the other side of the tent and they sank to the furs, their mouths never parting. Athelstan started to get dizzy with the sensation of it all, Ragnar's body leaning above him, the encouraging gasps against his mouth, and the other man's scent all over him.

“Ragnar,” he breathed into the kiss, and suddenly Ragnar went very still, and pulled away.

“Did I do something wrong?” A note of worry crept into his voice.

Athelstan shook his head. “No. It's just that...” His cheeks were aflame. “I'm afraid I'm not sure how it works between two men.”

Ragnar stared at him for a moment, and then he burst out laughing.

“What are you laughing about?” Athelstan asked accusingly and still chuckling, the other man tried to force a serious expression to his face.

“I'm getting under the impression that you're overthinking this, my friend.” He reached out a hand to tuck loose curls behind his ear. “There are many ways to pleasure a man as I'm sure you're already familiar with at least one.”

Athelstan blushed and cast his eyes down.

“I don't want to be a disappointment to you.”

“How could you be?” Ragnar gently tilted his head up so that he could look into his eyes. “Everyone has a first time.”

“Mine was a failure.” He spoke so quietly his words were hardly more than a soft exhalation. Whenever someone asked him about his brief encounter with Thyri at Uppsala, he told them he didn't remember much. He blamed it on the amount of magic mushrooms consumed, while, in fact, he remembered as much to make his face burning with shame even thinking about it. “I couldn't...it didn't...”

“Your prick didn't get hard,” Ragnar came to his rescue, barely hiding a smirk.

“Well. Yes. I figured it was because of the drugs Floki has given me. I was not...I wasn't really myself. But still it was embarrassing.”

“If it makes you feel any better, first times tend to be like that.” Ragnar shrugged, grinning. “I wish I could forget mine.”

That got Athelstan's attention.

“Why? What happened?” he asked. His blue eyes twinkled with curiousity.

“I finished before she could even take all her clothes off. She wasn't very keen on talking to me after that.” Athelstan chortled, but soon he was silenced him with a kiss. Ragnar rolled him over so that he was on top. “To my defence, I was even younger than Björn, back then.”

“I don't know which is worse,” Athelstan managed between kisses. He suddenly had a hard time thinking clearly, with the other man's crotch pressed to his, and the warmth sensation building in his abdomen.

“Good news,” Ragnar said, his lips curling into a smirk, “you're obviously having no trouble getting hard now. Look at you.”

Athelstan blushed deeply. “I'm sorry. This is embarrassing.” He tried to shift his hips so that their groins wouldn't touch, but Ragnar did not move.

“What are you sorry for?” he asked, looking puzzled. And then, he rolled off Athelstan with a deep groan. “You need to stop feeling ashamed of your body, do you understand? I'll make you learn to love and enjoy it.” His voice was gentle but firm, and Athelstan did not have it in him to argue. “What do you say, Athelstan? _Look at me_.” Reluctantly, Athelstan turned to face him. His face was flushed red, his dark hair a dishevelled mess. “Will you let me?”

He gave a faint nod.

“All right.” Ragnar winked. “I'm going to show you something you'll enjoy.”

It was another kind of torture. Ragnar took his time, giving him his full, undivided attention, hardly taking anything for himself-not that Athelstan was able to offer much. His movements felt a bit clumsy and hesitant even to himself as he tried to figure out where and how the other man liked to be touched. Ragnar was more patient than he would have ever given him credit for, but at some point he gently drove his hand away and told him to just lay back and relax.

“But I want you to-”

Ragnar groaned, lifting his eyes to the ceiling.

“Why do you always think of others before yourself? I want this to be about you. Please.”

And so Athelstan did as he was told, or at least tried to, as it was getting increasingly harder to lay still beneath Ragnar's wandering hands and open-mouthed kisses.

“You are good-smelling,” he murmured bemused, his breath warm on the younger man's skin. “In a way, this is new to me as well. I never touched another man like this before.”

“What are you---Ah!” Athelstan's back arched off the ground when Ragnar took a nipple into his mouth, sucking on it until it's hard between his lips. “What are you doing?” he accused, and Ragnar chortled.

“Discovering. And don't you try to pretend you're not liking it because you're hard as a wooden stick.”

He kissed his way down from Athelstan's chest to his abdomen, following the trail of thick, black hair leading into his trousers. He paused to steal a glance at the other man, propped on his elbows, his chest heaving in anticipation, and their eyes locked. Ragnar smirked and untied the laces, pulling Athelstan's trousers off in one movement.

“I'm guessing no one ever touched you there before?” The younger man shook his head.

Ragnar spread his legs a little and kissed on his inner thighs. “What a waste.” Athelstan could not help a series of giggles as the other man's beard tickled the sensitive skin, but his voice quickly faded into a strangled gasp when Ragnar palmed the bulge of his cock.

“Ragnar--- _Please_ ,” he clenched his eyes shut and bit on his bottom lip, almost hard enough to draw blood.

There was no place left for embarrassment, not when Ragnar was stroking him through the rough fabric, offering only enough friction to make him squirm and whimper helplessly. He _was_ achingly hard now, straining against his undergarments, his insides burning with such need he never thought he would experience, and by the time Ragnar freed his erection, he was leaking.

“It's always better if you tease them a little before. You'll see.” Grinning wickedly Ragnar spat on his hand and then, finally, wrapped it around the base. His sanity gone, Athelstan cried out and threw his head back, hips bucking upwards involuntarily as the other man started running his fingers along the length of him.

“For some reason it's much more enjoyable than doing it to yourself.” Ragnar smiled, and leaned over to kiss him. “You are a good man, Athelstan,” he whispered, “and if your God doesn't see it, maybe he's not worthty of worshipping at all. Now come for me.”

His movements quickened, and that was all Athelstan needed to fall apart completely. He tensed and spilled all over Ragnar's hand and his own stomach.

“I'm sorry,” he managed gasping for breath, his chest rising and falling heavily, but Ragnar merely smiled, licking his fingers clean.

“Want a taste of yourself?,” he asked, leaning closer above him. His hand trembling slightly, Athelstan pulled him into a sloppy kiss, and then grimaced, which made Ragnar laugh.

“Not to your liking, I take it?”

“No, it's not...bad, it's just....new, I suppose. I've never tasted it before.”

“Then it was about time. How come you know so much about the world and yet know nothing of your own body?”

“All my life I've been told those things don't matter. But I'm beginning to doubt lots of things I once thought to be unshakably firm.” Athelstan smiled and pulled him closer for another kiss. Ragnar shifted a little so that he was pressed more closely to him, and _then_ Athelstan felt it, the growing evidence of the other man's arousal pressed against his side. “You are...”

Ragnar grinned. “Have been for a while now. You make _such_ noises in pleasure.”

“Shall I...?”

“Don't bother. I'll take care of it.” Holding Athelstan's gaze he reached between them to loosen the laces on his breeches, and not even bothering to take them off he slipped his hand inside. Their lips met halfway as he began fisting himself with practiced movements, roughly, in a relentless pace. It was a mess, all teeth and tongues, only interrupted by Ragnar's low grunts against his mouth as he pushed himself closer to the edge with each stroke, and it didn't last long until he spent with a deep groan. A throaty, almost animalistic sound that Athelstan has already heard countless times back when they still shared a household, and yet. It was the first time that the man collapsed on top of _him_ after, the fist time that his heart was racing violently against _Athelstan's_ , and he felt oddly privileged.

“Sorry for chrushing you,” Ragnar muttered into Athelstan's skin, and rolled off him, chuckling.

Athelstan watched with heavy eyelids as the other man unceremoniously wiped his hand clean on a worn-out tunic.

“I wish you never stopped,” he added.

“Well, aren't you a greedy one?” Smiling, Athelsten nestled his head on the other man's chest, and Ragnar wrapped his arm around him. For a few moments neither of them speak, enjoying the warmth and comfort each other's body provided. With Ragnar's strong arm around him, and their legs tangled together, Athelstan was already on the verge of sleeping when the other man spoke up. “Tell me. Do you genuinely think the settlement is going to be a success?”

There was a bit of a pause.

“I do think it is your best chance....to make your dreams come true,” he said carefully. “I know you wanted English farming lands for your people ever since you first came here.”

“And what about King Ecbert?”

Athelstan looked up at him in confusion.

“Um...What about him?”

“Do you _trust_ him?”

Pause. Athelstan shifted uncomfortably.

“Yes. Not the way I trust you, but...I think he's genuine in his intention to make peace.”

“You once said to me that from what you've heard about him, he's just like me. Is that true?”

“In a way, yes. He's a very ambitious man, that much I can tell. But he's also concerned about the wellbeing of his people.” Athelstan suppressed a jawn, and Ragnar placed a kiss to the top of his head, chuckling.

“Now sleep. Tomorrow we're leaving at first light.”

Athelstan murmured his approval, nuzzling further into his chest, and for the first time in a very long time, dream came on him easily.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! English is not my native language, so in case you find any mistakes, please let me know <3


End file.
